


Troublemaker

by levelofdepth



Series: Origin Stories [2]
Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-04
Updated: 2020-01-04
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:08:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22118407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/levelofdepth/pseuds/levelofdepth
Summary: No ship, no crew, no credits; there was a time when Jahna Mahr had less to feel good about.
Series: Origin Stories [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1583257
Comments: 2
Kudos: 1





	Troublemaker

**Author's Note:**

> I tried to replace the swear words I wrote originally with more "canon" friendly swears, but it started to become a pain. Anyways, second installation in my origin stories series. Thanks to Elaphae for the wonderful art. Next story comes out next Saturday.

She shouldn’t be here. She  _ knows _ she shouldn’t be here, but she can’t help herself. The energy of Nar Shaddaa’s nightlife always manages to draw her out of whatever blasted hole she’s slumming it in. Sure, the cantina in the Red Light Sector might be reserved for those over 21, but she knows that if she smiles and laughs enough the bouncer looming outside will cave, completely forgetting that she’s only seventeen.

When she walks into the bar, she instantly feels at home among the crowd people throbbing with the bass of whatever deafening song is playing. She blinks twice, eyes adjusting to the change; while all of Nar Shaddaa is covered in massive, flashing advertisements and illuminated highrises, none compare to the pulsing strobe lights of the club scene. When her vision clears, she smirks at the sight of all the bobbing bodies; it’s  _ magnetic _ , she thinks. Especially when her emerald eyes land on a particularly attractive figure. It doesn’t matter if they’re a man, woman, or otherwise. Doesn’t even have to be a human, she thinks. She just wants to be the one moving alongside them on the dance floor. Their eyes lock, and she feels her legs begin to propel her forward automatically. As the figure beckons her closer, a quiet voice chastising her in the back of her head brings her to a halt.

She came here for a reason. One other than getting laid, she adds.

She turns toward the bar, and begins ambling over to it, disappointment displacing the joy previously residing in her heart. Her fun will have to wait. Leaning on the counter, she waves the twi’lek tending the bar over to her impatiently. If she’s going to spend her night on the sidelines instead of having a good time, she’s going to do it with a drink in her hand. Shortly after placing her order, the twi’lek slides her a glass nonchalantly, and she catches it in her hands. She performs her routine check for any unwanted substances, then knocks the shot back quickly. The burning sensation that moves its way down her throat trickles into her belly, igniting a fire within her that demands to be quenched; when she turns to find the same person she was sending glances to on the dance floor next to her eyeing her back now, she gives into her body’s demands.

“See something you like?” she teases. The person startles at her attention, obviously too lost in their own thoughts to notice having been caught. They blush a little underneath her heady gaze. It only serves to pique her interest even more.

“What would you do if I said yes?” they reply, still flushed, but unafraid, running their fingers alluringly along the golden chain resting underneath their crisp shirt. Their boldness pleasantly surprises her. This is what she loves about the club scene; the give and take of flirtatious remarks are like a game of pazaak to her, and by nature she refuses to lose. Still, she wants to draw the moment out and prolong her excitement.

“I’d ask you for your name first,” she says with a slight giggle.

Jahna knows she’d fit the description of an attractive woman with her mix of soft, feminine facial features and the hard edges of someone who’s been in a plethora of fights, her short, dark brown hair tied into a loose ponytail, and her roguish viridian eyes that dance mischievously. She’s had her handful of lovers, some she found more interesting than others, but few piqued her interest as much as this person before them. They smile easily at Jahna, dimples showing up on their already gorgeous features that she begins to take in fully now that they are closer. She has heard stories before of impeccable beauty found in noble Alderaanian royalty, regal yet warm, but could never truly appreciate it until this moment. Their short, dirty blond hair is neatly combed and tied up, save a few strands that stick out sporadically, likely from their dancing previously. Their azure eyes sparkle like the depths of Manaan, in which she finds herself delightfully being pulled under. Their smile is what she finds can only be described as “perfect”, and she watches, transfixed, as their lips form around words.

“My name is Shay,” they say softly but confidently. Jahna wonders how someone from the same streets as her can seem so flawless.

“Jahna,” she responds, omitting her surname purposefully; one can never be too careful on such a shifty planet, especially with her circumstance.

“Charmed,” Shay responds, their eyes glittering as they look at her. It makes Jahna begin to question their motivations; it’s not unusual for the Nar Shaddaa population to seek out certain forms of entertainment out at the bars, but it doesn’t call for this much of a  saccharine attitude . She doesn’t want to find herself on the other end of someone’s blaster being held up for what few credits she has, so she resolves to be wary of this Shay character. Besides, she came here with a purpose. One other than good sex, she adds. 

Her little brother is missing, likely taken by the Black Sun gang, a rising power on Nar Shaddaa. Less than a year ago, they both worked for the Black Sun — a lot of kids like them did; it wasn’t easy money, but few organizations were hiring homeless, experienceless orphans. Besides, the man that got them into the gang, known simply as “Boss”, and pulled most of the strings in their sector was very good at convincing people to join. He spoke of a better life with the Black Sun. As long as everyone pulled their weight, they’d always have a roof over their head and food in their stomach, he claimed. For awhile, it went well. They ran a lot of successful ops together, brother and sister, and were starting to look like the most capable team in their sector, which caught Boss’ attention. But he used them like tools, sending them on increasingly dangerous missions but giving them less and less in return, like slaves; they might as well have been working in the Empire’s Evocii camps. She knew when she joined the Suns with her brother that it wouldn’t be flowers and sunshine by any means, but she was growing tired sticking her neck out, as well as her brother’s, for a man that didn’t even view them as human. Unfortunately, leaving the Black Sun has consequences. Jahna was running jobs, multiple everyday, trying to earn enough credits to get them both off Nar Shaddaa, somewhere far away from Boss and the Black Sun, when her brother was stolen off the streets. Now she’s checking one of the liveliest cantinas on the moon, a hub of activity and information, to find out anything she can about the whereabouts of her brother.

That doesn’t mean she can’t enjoy her work, though.

“So, what brings someone such as yourself to a place like this, Shay?” Jahna flashes them a winning smile, which they return, just as alluring. Jahna feels as though she’s almost met her match.

Almost.

“I’m just here to enjoy a night out. Maybe meet a kindred spirit,” they wink at Jahna. She has to contain a snort at the term “kindred spirit”. She’s never met a spacer that flirts so formally, but she can’t deny that it’s effective. Kinda cute, she thinks.

The sound of glass shattering against the brightly lit tiles of the dance floor startles Jahna. Her blaster is out before she fully turns. Her heart is hammering with the smooth beat of the catina’s music, even though she schools herself to remain calm outwardly; shaky hands make for bad aim, she reasons. But as she points her blaster at her target, she realizes that the sound simply came from a clumsy patron that had too much to drink. The Gand stares at her blankly, along with a few other bargoers. Jahna nods at them all apologetically, holstering her weapon as she turns back towards Shay.

Inwardly, she feels a pang of embarrassment over her startled reaction, but she manages to say, “Never can be too careful on this dump,” with as much swagger as she can imbue.

“Agreed,” Shay responds with less jest than Jahna had spoke with. She’s a little surprised to find them also holstering their (considerably more deadly looking) blaster as they speak. Her first thought is where can she get her hands on such a nice weapon — just as good looking at its owner, she laments.

But her eyes are drawn to Shay’s wrist, outstretched briefly while holding their blaster, and a more serious thought comes to mind.

“What’s that tattoo on your arm, Shay?” she asks, a little less casual than she was going for. She hopes they don’t notice.

Shay frowns and tugs on their sleeve, hiding the thin lines marking their skin.

Blast. They definitely noticed.

“It’s an old scar, not one I enjoy talking about much.” Then they quickly add, “You one of those girls who think scars are sexy?” The awkward line and the forced smile only give Jahna more cause to be suspicious. She knows she shouldn’t be reckless, especially not here or now, but Shay’s fake ass smile is slipping, and the damn crowd is making it hard to think, and—

Blast it.

She wraps her hand around Shay’s wrist, holding on tight. Shay’s eyes widen with fear before narrowing angrily. Jahna bets they’re growling, too, but the music does a good job of masking it.

She doesn’t give a shit anyways. Hell, she’d glare and growl right back if she didn’t have better things to focus on, like rolling up Shay’s sleeve to see exactly what they’re hiding.

The simplistic curls Jahna had noticed before are revealed to be a fraction of a larger but equally simplistic design, one that she recognizes all too well.

The Black Sun.

Just as she’s getting a decent glance at the fiery symbol of the notorious gang, Shay pulls away violently, accidentally bumping into the large Gamorrean behind her in the process. It squeals angrily. Both Shay and Jahna take a step back out of deference; Jahna knows better than to start anything in such a crowded bar, especially if Shay is riding with the biggest gang on Nar Shaddaa— that would mean she’s outnumbered by  _ a lot _ . She wonders briefly if she could take on a whole gang. She decides that she can, but she won’t try.

Judging by the way Shay shoots daggers at her, she wonders if she even has a choice anymore.

She shrugs it off and grabs Shay again, who resists this time. Jahna pulls Shay closer so she can speak without being heard by anyone else at the bar, ignoring Shay’s squirming. Shay might be taller, but they don’t have the lean muscle Jahna has built over her years of running through the dangerous streets of lower Nar Shaddaa.

“Really, Shay? The Black Sun?” she hisses.

“I gotta eat somehow, Jahna!” she spits back. Shay stops struggling, and Jahna loosens her grip sympathetically.

“I know. I… my brother and I used to run with the Black Sun for a bit before we broke off. There are better ways to make a living Shay,” she says solemnly.

“Broke off?” Shay’s eyes widen for a moment. “Jahna, you don’t just  _ break off _ from the Black Sun.”

Jahna’s not sure why she cares so much about this Shay figure, or if she really care about them at all. Still, she’s got no love for the Black Sun; they already stole one kid, she doesn’t want them to take another.

“Look, Shay. I did my best to get away from them, but it didn’t work out as planned; they took my brother. You can help me. Don’t let them use you like they did me. Get yourself out of that gang and off this planet, you hear?”

“Not everyone can be a hotshot running solo like you, Jahna,” Shay growls, drawing Jahna’s attention back. Before she can think of a proper reply, she’s being shoved back, stumbling into the bar counter. She reaches out, but Shay has already backed into the sea of people swaying to the music. She considers following, but thinks better of it.

For once, Jahna is fresh out of witty comments to make.

* * *

“Be patient, Jay. They’ll signal us when it’s time. Until then, quit fidgeting; the whole point of hiding is to not be spotted,” Rowan Mahr chastises, his soft voice a sharp contrast with the eerie groans of the run down factory. As the last of the Evocii workers trudge out from the crumbling structure, exhausted from a long day of working on the line, and even more exhausted by the infamously cruel treatment within the Imperial camps, Rowan lowers the macrobinoculars from his inquisitive, hazel eyes. He feels a twinge of regret for the poor souls captured by the Empire being worked to death like slaves.

He might be working himself to death, too, but at least he has a bit of a choice in how he goes.

Jahna lays low on the ledge beside her younger brother, not quite able to sit still for so long. She’s never been very good at stealth missions, but their boss was very clear about the importance of this particular job, and the pay wasn’t half bad, either.

She snatches the binoculars from his grasp with ease, ignoring his protests, and says, “Don’t worry, little brother. I am an expert of all things stealth.” She flashes him a crooked grin.

Rowan grimaces and replies, “Last time, you decided to start cleaning your blaster while we were watching the exchange go down, and you accidentally shot the buyer.” Jahna simply grins wider. It had turned out that the buyer was paying with bad credits, so no one in the Black Sun was too disappointed when he turned up dead.

“And Boss called me an absolute genius. A genius, Ro!” She nudges his shoulder lightly, to which he simply rolls his eyes at, “That’s why I’m the expert, and you’re my sidekick.”

“Sidekick,” Rowan scoffs at his sister’s brazen attitude, but can’t help a smile despite himself.

“Looks like the boys are here,” Jahna comments, eyeing the Black Sun members entering the factory building the two siblings wait quietly in. The massive steel door leading in makes a shrill sound as it is forced open. Dim blue light and cool air stream in as the large gangsters stride through the entrance, muscles flexing as they walk. For a moment, Jahna longs for the slightly less oppressive atmosphere beyond the dull factory walls. Ultimately, she knows there is not a single location on this moon that  _ isn’t  _ oppressive.

Following the hulking men belonging to the Black Sun are numerous Niktos. Immediately, they begin searching the area for any hidden traps or weapons; the Nikto are in Black Sun territory, and therefore don’t wish to be caught off guard. Likewise, the Black Sun men, with their painted arms and hardened faces, keep a close watch on their scaly visitors. One of the Nikto stands out to Jahna; where the other Nikto have small horns and green scales, this one has considerably larger horns that loom over his scowling appearance, and pale brown scales: a mountain Nikto, she realizes. They’re a rare sight, and when they are seen, they’re typically designated as squad leaders due to their sheer strength and high pain tolerance.

“So, the Kintan Kings finally manned up, huh?” she says aloud, not necessarily directed towards her brother. He replies anyways.

“The Sun is growing rapidly, you know that, Jay. All the gangs around here are trying to get a piece fast before they become a target instead. I hear even some off world gangs are looking to get in on the action.”

“Think they’ll give us a ticket off this damn moon, Ro?”

Both siblings quickly duck below the concrete ledge lining the edge of where they lay as the mountain Nikto in charge looks their way.

“Did they see us?” Jahna questions, slightly nervous over the idea of being spotted. 

She would have liked to have seen the sky once before she died, but oh well.

They wait together with bated breath for what feels like forever to Jahna, until Rowan speaks softly.

“I think we’re okay, but let’s keep waiting like this until we get the signal; getting back up isn’t worth getting caught.”

“Aw, but I’m cramping up sitting like this, Ro,” she whines. Rowan glares at her, obviously indicating that now is not the time to complain childishly.

Right. Serious mode.

Jahna gives her brother a solemn nod and gathers her resolve.

Suddenly, a deafening sound rumbles through the building, shaking Jahna as well as the entire structure, making her ears ring; the explosion reverberates throughout the area. She worries for a moment that the entire factory will collapse upon them both. She peeks above the ledge, but remains careful to stay behind cover, just in case. A giant wall of yellows, oranges, and reds engulf the back of the building— where the gangs were set to meet —moving quickly towards the front— where the two siblings sit. The sight of thick black smoke filling the air, making it hard to see and hard to breathe— a true black sun —sends a shiver of terror down Jahna’s spine. She gathers the courage to act, and turns to her brother, grabbing his arm as he begins to stand, bringing him down to the floor yet again. The lower you are, the easier it is to breathe, she reasons.

“This place is about to turn into a damn oven, Rowan!” she cries out. As if to punctuate her point, the mountain Nikto runs out from the flames, screaming at the top of his powerful lungs. It’s a terrible sound, one that rings in Jahna’s ears far longer than that of the explosion. “We need to get out of here.” 

A few Nikto and Black Sun fighters limp out of the flames, coughing violently. Some shoot at each other, though the vast majority of their shots are wildly off. Most of the gangsters collapse, unable to continue moving as smoke fills their lungs.

Jahna takes in the determined look on her brother’s face as he observes the spectacle. She already knows what he’s going to say.

“No, Rowan.  _ Let’s go _ ,” she hisses at him, pulling at his arm to emphasize her point.

“We have to go help them,” he pleads with her, eyes wide.

“They’re scum! No, I’m not losing you over them,” she says intensely, with just as much heat as the terrible fire consuming the factory.

“ _ We’re _ scum, Jahna!” he chokes out as loud as he can possibly get. His pale face is flushed with anger over his sister’s lack of empathy. What makes them better than the Kings or Black Suns down below them? Sweat rolls down Jahna’s face and into her already watering eyes, making it difficult for her to send a truly threatening glare towards her brother; he remains unmoved. “I’m not leaving without at least trying,” he exclaims, the conviction in his voice letting Jahna know that there’s no changing his mind.

“For such a smart kid, you can be pretty kriffing stupid,” she snaps at him, but he’s already run off.

Damn his stubbornness, she thinks. It’ll be the death of them both.

* * *

Jahna leans against the bar, still dumbstruck after her encounter. Shay's words haunt her.

“You don't just break off from the Black Sun.”

The words echoing within her skull serve as a reminder that draws her from the trance she was in previously; patience has never been her strongest virtue, anyhow.

It's time to take action.

Jahna pushes off the counter, determination replacing what used to be only shock and confusion. She came here for answers, and she got them.

It seems the Black Sun really wasn't so keen on letting them go, after all. Nice of them to lead her directly to where she needs to get to, though.

Jahna steps forward into the sea of bodies swaying in unison to the slow beat that pulses like a vigorous heart— it's as if they give the place life just as much as it does them. But when the clammy stench of sweat hits her nose, she feels herself pulled back to reality; she's in a seedy bar full of seedy people, about to rescue her younger brother from a seedy gang.

There's nothing revitalizing about that thought.

She pushes her way through the crowds as subtly as possible, trying her best to come off as inconspicuous as possible. A few patrons glare at her, annoyed by the little human girl trying to push them around, but most of the people dancing take no notice of her; they simply don't care.

She loves the spotlight, but she doesn't rue giving it up just this once.

Once on the opposite side of the room, she scans the area for some sort of back or side entrance. Her gaze lands on a small, metal door, much less impressive than the lavish front entrance. One of the club’s imposing bouncers struggles to close the door completely; someone obviously opened it recently, and with great force, as if they were in a panic. Jahna feels that same panic rush over her and she talks to the door, intent on not losing this chance. The bouncer turns his head toward her swiftly, noticing her approach and clearly disapproving of it. He steps in front of the (still open) door, preventing her from getting by entirely.

“Exit’s closed,” the man says tersely, his looming presence not intimidating her a bit. She’s seen his type before.

One just like him at the front, in fact.

She gives him the best coquettish look she can manage in an instant and says, “Oh, please? It's getting so  _ hot _ in here. You can show me the way out if you'd like, sweetheart.” She cringes internally. Not her best line, but it'll do; the man's eyebrows shoot to the ceiling, a light flush tinting his face already. It’s almost kinda cute how flustered he’s gotten, but he’s not her type.

But then his brow is lowering, into a frown this time, and his eyes are narrowing with suspicion as he demands an answer, “Who said you could come through here?”

She doesn't have time for this crap.

“The Queen of Alderaan!” she snaps, sarcasm dripping dangerously from her voice. She barrels forward, dodging underneath the man flexibly. There's a little  _ thunk  _ as her body connects with the hard, metal door at full speed, but it opens with ease. She was expecting more resistance; she stumbles outside into a dank alleyway. She thinks someone inside the bar yells at her to not come back as they (finally) slam the door shut, but she's not entirely sure— she wasn't paying them any attention. Jahna searches the alley, her sight honing in on anything that might be a clue as to Shay’s whereabouts.

Narrow streaks of light stream in from above, illuminating the steel corridor for Jahna better than the dim, flashing signs from the neighboring shops and clubs do. The lack of people— squatters, spice dealers, or just plain, drunken partygoers —makes her feel uneasy. She glances at the rusted pipes that crawl up the wall opposite of her. They don't look very stable, as if they might collapse on her at any minute. She follows them back down toward the bottom end, walking near them as her eyes travel lower. Sewage leaks out, pooling at the bottom, not quite making the drain. This time, she has to cover her nose in order to withstand the smell. As a bright pink sign of a twi'lek female dancing changes poses, so does the direction of the light.

The sign’s glare mixing with the color of the small object hanging on one of the pipes emits a rose gold glint, drawing Jahna’s attention. She moves closer to study the object. As she draws nearer, Jahna realizes that the object is the same stunning necklace Shay wore from before.

Her first instinct is to find out how much she can pawn it off for; it's what she was wondering before, too, when she first laid eyes on it. But, she wrestles down this instinct, and simply pockets the piece of jewelry.

Maybe it’ll come in handy later.

Jahna rounds the corner nearest to where she found the necklace, expecting to find a trace of Shay. She jumps back behind the wall, shocked to see Shay standing a short distance down the street, turning to face Jahna’s direction, as if they had sensed her.

She prays to whatever hokey Sith or Jedi force deities that exist that she wasn't spotted.

Jahna counts to ten, then peeks her head around the corner once more; she manages to catch Shay’s figure disappearing behind the slope descending into the lower levels of the planet.

Jahna does a little fist bump for her expertise in stealthy maneuvering, then makes to follow Shay.

The two of them play in oversized game of cat-and-mouse together, weaving through the mess that is the lower slums of Nar Shaddaa. Eventually, Shay loses Jahna but it doesn't matter.

She's figured out exactly where they're headed; after all, she was in the Black Sun once.

Approaching the heart of Black Sun territory, Jahna makes sure she's extra careful of her visibility. she knows the area is crawling with gang members that could overwhelm her faster than she could unholster her blaster.

And she's a mighty fast draw.

At the center of where the few Black Sun members patrolling outside are stationed is a massive abandoned warehouse. A few windows are busted, and even entire frames have been removed to be used like scrap.

During her “initiation” into the Black Sun, the Boss gave her, Rowan, and a few other kids like them their first grueling assignment: climb to the top of the warehouse— “Home Base” as Boss had called it — and bring down something worthwhile. The gang had just moved in, so he reasoned that there'd be plenty of shit ripe for the taking. Jahna kept a steely expression as he spoke, and Rowan scanned the building, his calculating mind already trying to “get an angle” on the task at hand. Some of the other kids weren't handling it as well as them, though, notably the one standing next to her. The poor kid must have been even younger than she was at the time— maybe twelve years old or so. He looked like he was about to piss himself on the spot, and Boss knew it, too. He just sneered at the little boy, though, and told them all to get going. He wasn't cut out for their line of work.

Nobody was surprised to see him fall all five stories.

Another kid climbed up, then all the way back down, because he “couldn’t find anything worth grabbing.”

Boss just shrugged and said, “Then you’re not worth keeping,” and shot him in the head.

Jahna may have played the tough-guy act and deflected her brothers worried inquiries with her usual wit, but she didn't stop having nightmares about that day until Boss gave her material for a new one.

She had a hunch that her brother was brought back here; Boss always liked a poetic end to things. Shay returning only confirms her gut feeling, and now they're her ticket back in.

Jahna moves from cover to cover, closing in on the large fence surrounding Home Base. There's a hole near the side that she's lithe enough to squeeze through if she—

Her hopes are dashed as one of the guards on duty walks near it, destroying any chance of getting through that way.

Blast. Gotta find another way in.

She doesn't recognize the young woman, about her age, standing by the gate entering the facility. She shifts nervously, her inexperience manifesting in her uncertainty.

Perfect.

Jahna rolls up her sleeves and smirks confidently. She saunters up to the entrance with a little extra sway in her hips for good measure. When the girl’s eyes land on Jahna swaggering up to her, they widen a little, obviously not expecting anyone to actually approach her during her shift.

Poor kid. Hopefully this doesn't get her ass shot.

“Who are you and what are you doing here?” she asks, trying and failing to sound intimidating.

“You mean you don't know who I am?” Jahna questions, raising an eyebrow as she continues to move forward towards the girl. Uncertainty pools in her eyes, boosting Jahna's confidence. “I've been in the Sun for years, kid.”

Technically, it's not a lie.

She flashes the tattoo on her wrist at the girl, who inspects it for a moment, then nods.

“Go on in,” she says as she presses the button designated to open the gate.

Jahna ducks in, swiftly striding into the warehouse before anyone actually competent recognizes her.

The building has been updated since she was last inside of it, she notes; there's multiple floors in both directions instead of empty nothingness. There's a sign by the stairs labeled “cantina” where she can hear sounds of laughter coming from. She snorts humorlessly to herself over the addition; the only thing Boss might have been more thirsty for than blood was a good drink.

Some things always stay the same, though, like the heavy, steel trap door that leads down to the “dungeon” as the gang jokingly called it. They weren't too far off the mark, she notes as she opens it as quietly as she can, then climbs down the ladder connected to it. Rows of Force cages line the room, which connects to an even smaller one— the “Information Room”, a euphemism for the room the Black Sun uses to torture anyone with valued information, or to keep them from spreading it.

Jahna's done a lot of kriffed up things in her lifetime, but she draws the line at torture. Besides, the area was always restricted; only Boss and a few other higher-ups were ever allowed in.

“Jahna?”

She turns to see her brother in one of the cages, a radiant smile plastered across his face despite being chained down. He's also considerably smaller than when she last saw him, his pants baggy, his shirt hanging loosely on his protruding ribcage. His dark brown hair sticks out at every which angle atop his head. He has dark circles underneath his eyes, as if having not slept for days.

The sight of him beaming at her, alive, instantly fills her with hope, in spite of his terrible condition. Among the gloom of the shadowy room, Rowan seems to glow brightly. She feels like she's at home. Now she just needs to get home outta here. Rowan's eyes widen to a comical size. He's obviously just as happy to see her as she is him. He opens his mouth, preparing to shower her with gratitude, she presumes, when she suddenly feels a sharp prick in her neck.

Oh, that’s what he was looking at.

But it's too late for realizations or I-told-you-so's.

The last thing Jahna sees before her world goes black is Boss, chuckling, and standing beside him, expression conflicted as ever, is Shay.

* * *

“Jahna.”

Her name is spoken in a welcoming baritone that fills her with a sense of belonging that she hasn’t felt in a long time. She recognizes the compassionate sound as her brother’s, and for a moment wonders if she’s simply dreaming, or if her luck has truly run out.

But fate is not so merciful; the light poke she receives to the cheek informs her that her fight is yet over.

“Hey, Jay, wake up,” Rowan whispers quietly but insistently.

It takes her a moment to fully recall their situation, but when the full brunt of it hits her, the weight of the danger they are in knocks the wind out of her lungs; she can't stall the incoming panic. When she entered Black Sun territory, she knew busting her brother out would be no easy feat, so she played to her strengths— mostly. Jahna didn't expect getting caught, getting played by that damn Shay, so she never made a contingency plan if she did. There's no way for them to escape the Black Sun facility with the entire gang guarding the place. Jahna finds herself unable to swallow past the lump building in her throat.

They’re going to die here.

She silently curses herself for her lack of foresight through gritted teeth, then forces her breathing to relax; it won't do them any good if her typically level-headed brother sees her fear and starts panicking as well;He's the brains if they're disorganized operation, after all. Plus, she notes optimistically, it's possible that Rowan knows a way out of here. He's a pretty crafty guy.

Jahna feigns a cool attitude and quips, “Five more minutes, Ro.” Her eyes flutter open, as if just having awakened.

“Come on Jay, where’s all the energy you usually got at?” Rowan says, more genuine then his sister had been prior.

  
  


She rolls over answer back and examines her brother. He’s still human stick adorned with all kinds of cuts and bruises that make her cringe a little internally, but she finds the apprehensive smile he wears on his face to be contagious, and grins back.

If she dies, at least she gets to do it by Rowan’s side.

“You're right,” she starts off quietly. “Let's go down fighting, little brother,” she says much louder, her defiant words reverberating off the cavernous walls.

Rowan shushes her harshly, then follows up with the softer tone stating, “Love the attitude, Jay, but we have to be quiet if we're going to actually get out of here.”

As if on cue, a Black Sun gang member barks at them in the cage. “Nobody's gonna be doing any fighting, so both of you shut up in there.” The two siblings glance at each other, with Rowan briefly taken aback by the man's harsh tone (despite having endured plenty of harshness during this time imprisoned), and Jahna slightly amused by it. Rowan's expression flickers from mildly offended to focused in an instant, though Jahna isn't quite sure what he's focused on.

That boy's brain never ceases to amaze her.

“What do you see, Rowan?” She whispers as subtly as she can manage. The guard pays her no mind— whether it’s because he doesn’t realize she’s spoken, or he’s stopped caring, Jahna doesn’t know, but it doesn’t matter.

“Our way out,” he replies determinedly, much to Jahna’s surprise; he says it with such confidence, that she feels compelled to believe him. Almost.

He notices the skepticism written on her face and follows up his original cryptic comment with, “Spending endless days in this place has allowed for me to study it in relative detail.” He gives her a strained smile; some good may have come out of his time spent in the cell, but neither of the Mahrs can forget the painful truth: Rowan has been through absolute hell at the hands of the Black Sun.

They both have.

“How much do you know about Info?” he asks rhetorically is he nods over at the ominous door leading to the next room.

“Why?” she questions. “What wild plans have those gears turning in your heads spat out for us this time?”

“I think there's another exit, one more concealed than the way you came in, in there. We can slip out unnoticed and get far away from this horrid place.”

“Wait, that place was restricted when we rode with the Sun. How do you know if there's an exit in there, Rowan? Did they…?”

Intercepting her line of thought, Rowan interrupts her. “No. They didn't feed me much, and they sometimes yelled things at me or roughed me up a little, but it was never so bad that they took me in there. I think they were waiting for you, Jay,” he finishes with a grimace. The irony of searching tirelessly for her brother, only to find out that the thing keeping him alive was her staying away stings for them both.

Jahna shrugs off the incoming guilt and instead opts to ask, “So then how do you know there—”

“Might be,” Rowan interrupts apprehensively. Jahna rolls her eyes and continues.

“How do you know there  _ might  _ be a way out in there?” 

Rowan leans forward as if preparing to tell a great secret. His amber eyes dance playfully in the dim light of the basement. He decides to enlighten his sister.

“Bodies that go in, don’t come out.” Jahna jerks back, shocked by her brother’s sudden morbid sense of humor; it’s unlike him to make such dark jokes. His odd behavior sets off all kinds of alarms within Jahna.

“What the kriff, Rowan?” she hisses.

“I’m sorry,” he says sincerely, but with no short amount of excitement. “I’m just ready to be out of here, Jay. Ready to be free.”

Jahna sobers a bit, electing for a sardonic reply instead of an admonishing one as she says, “Ready to join all those bodies that ‘don’t come out’?”

Rowan grins cheekily at her, then turns his attention to the guard pacing by the trap door at the front of the room. Jahna follows his gaze, curious as to how Rowan plans on getting them out of their shared cell. After all, one touch of the lasers (in lieu of actual bars) would mean severe electrical burns, and maybe one less limb if she’s really unlucky, and Jahna feels kind of attached to all of hers.

“Maybe that guy can help us out,” he says thoughtfully.

“Oh sure,” she starts glibly. “Maybe if you ask him nicely, he’ll bust us out of here.”

Still grinning, Rowan responds with equal amounts of glibness, “One way or another, he’ll be a useful asset. Let’s try to be nonlethal, though. His life is worth just as much as ours is, Jay.”

Jahna disagrees; if the punk guarding them hurts Rowan, she won’t feel guilty about blasting him. She concedes all the same and asks, “How do we make good on our ‘useful asset’, genius?”

Rowan studies the guard for a moment longer, bronze eyes flitting across the man rapidly, lapping up every bit of information he spots. Eventually, his eyes land on the belt looped around the man’s waist. Jahna follows his gaze after it settles, and notices the blaster holstered by his hip that juts out to one side as he rests the other just above the terminal he stands next to. She begins to categorize it, measure the degree of danger is poses to them— she might not be a genius like her brother is, but she’s more than adequate with a blaster. Only as her eyes travel across the room does she realize that Rowan is pointing towards something specific, something other than the blaser she was so transfixed by. She faces him and raises an eyebrow, a wordless question as to what he’s found.

“His datapad, Jay. I can use it to slice into that terminal,” he nods over at the terminal the aforementioned guard rests his hip upon.

“Well I can’t use the damn Force to get it,” Jahna gripes.

“You’re totally useless, then?” he shoots back, clearly trying to provoke her.

“No, I just…” Jahna trails off, feeling conflicted.

Blast it. She’ll bite.

“Fine. Watch this.” With that, she turns away from her brother to face the guard again.

“Hey, Ty,” she says with a hint of seduction in her tone. At the sound of his name being called, the guard turns to face her fully.

“How the hell do you know my name?” he asks, sounding a bit alarmed.

“You kidding?” she feigns incredulity. “All of the Black Sun know who you are.” The man looks flattered for a moment.

So flattered that he almost forgets about the name tag attached to his worn shirt. When he remembers, he presses hand against the small, plastic card as if confirming to himself that it is indeed still there. Collecting himself, the man growls at Jahna.

“I thought I told you to shut up, bitch.”

Jahna fights down a grin; won’t do them any good if she blows her chance now.

“Sorry, Ty, it’s just that, well, back when I was still running with the gang, I remember hearing some rumors.” she pauses for dramatic effect then continues, “Rumors about  _ you _ , Ty.”

“Rumors? What rumors?” he inquires, the fact that she’s supposed to be quiet momentarily forgotten.

Too easy.

“Well, some of the guys said you were strong enough to beat even Boss at an arm wrestling match. But honestly, I bet they were full of shit,” she lies through her teeth; she knows nothing about this Ty man, what his strengths or weaknesses are, but she tests him in order to find out. Besides, all these Black Sun gang members are the same to her. They tend to think with their muscles before their heads.

“Who said that?” he asks sharply, his pride evidently wounded already. Jahna shrugs noncommittally in response, unwilling to show her cards to him. She knows she doesn’t need to do so to succeed in her machinations. “Well, does this look like bullshit to you?” he growls as he raises an arm to flex. Her brother snorts at the ridiculousness of the man’s behavior, which only serves to aggravate him further.

“You kidding, kid?” the guard says with frustration. “My arm is as big as your skinny neck that I just might snap.”

Jahna decides to quickly interject stating, “You know, it’s hard to tell in all this darkness.” As she expects, the man lumbers toward their cell to provide them a better view.

The bright blue shield emitted by the Force cage light up the toned biceps of the man towering before the two siblings, but Jahna studies something far more crucial than his muscle definition: the datapad hanging near his backside that Rowan had spotted before.

“Not bad,” she considers aloud. “But…” she lets her voice trail, keeping the man's attention tied to her.

“But?” he picks up.

“I need to see all the angles to be sure. That you're all that, I mean. Like a profile shot, you know?” She feels the window of opportunity shutting on her, and prays that the man bites one last time. Their eyes lock, and the suspicion she finds simmering in his is dangerous. She forces her expression to match one of mild arousal, licking her lips to add to the facade; ploys like this tend to make people forget any doubts. The man finally  acquiesces , grinning to himself as he turns, as if he has won a fantastic game. Jahna can’t help but grin along with him.

“Can I feel?” she asks timidly so that the man still feels in control. As she speaks, she nods toward Rowan, signaling him to make a move.

“Sure,” the man says cockily. Rowan, shrewd as ever, picks up on Jahna’s motions, and reaches out through the bars, just as Jahna does, to swiftly pick the datapad off the man. Jahna keeps him well distracted by caressing his arm, obviously much to his delight, as he only grins wider. Jahna pities the guy for a moment— must have been awhile since he last saw some action if he’s getting this excited over a little arm rub —before she pulls her arm back within the barriers of the cage. Through the corner of her eye, she spots her brother stashing the datapad away, and smiles triumphantly, an expression she quickly changes back to sultry as the man turns around to face her yet again.

“What’s your game, girl?” he questions, still pleased with himself, but also not entirely trusting of her.

Jahna shrugs again adding, “If I’m going to die soon, might as well enjoy myself one last time.” The guards brow shoots up as he catches her implication, then his gaze swings over to where her brother squats, looking tired as ever.

And impatient.

Rowan interrupts her failing flirtations abruptly.

“Guard, can I get some water, please?” 

The large man frowns deeply at Rowan grunting, “Why?”

“Because I need a drink,” Rowan replies impatiently.

“Getting too hot for you, brother?” Jahna teases. Rowan rolls his eyes, but otherwise ignores her.

“Fine; I won’t have Boss on my ass if you wind up dead in your cell,” the gangster gripes unhappily. He continues to grumble to himself as he half-stomps toward the ladder ascending to the trap door. Jahna turns to Rowan as soon as she hears the slam of the door shutting on them again, what brief light shining through from above being snuffed out almost instantly. Rowan works quickly on deactivating the cage so that their changes of escaping are not also extinguished.

A brief wave of pride washes over Jahna at what she and her brother have already accomplished together, but she sets it aside to focus on the task at hand. Rowan’s frantic typing on the stolen datapad eventually proves fruitful as the cage deactivates with the quiet hum of a machine being powered down.

Wordlessly, Jahna grabs Rowan’s arm, offering what support she can while they hastily hobble to the room next door— where people are interrogated.

Jahna has experienced a variety of scents throughout her seventeen years trapped on Nar Shaddaa, but none compare to the putrid miasma that hits her as she enters the next room; a disturbing mix of metallic and rotten smells envelop the room, making her eyes water as well as Rowan’s.

“Bodies. Dead for a long time,” Rowan gasps, doing his best to inhale as little as he possibly can. Jahna agrees that the smell must be coming from corpses, but as she scans the room, none are to be found. The area isn’t very large, but gives off the affect due to the scarcity of anything residing within. Only a single interrogation chair and a dim light hanging above adorn the chamber. The floor and walls are colored a bland grey, apart from the odd blood stain decorating them sporadically.

“Look there,” Rowan notes, nodding across the room. Jahna squints to catch what he has spotted, and finally notices the large garbage chute jutting out from the far wall. Judging by the amount of blood covering it and its vicinity, Jahna deduces that it must be where the scent is coming from.

“Our way out,” she replies with a grimace.

“Hopefully alive,” Rowan adds just as dismally.

They let out a collective sigh, then slowly approach the chute. Looking down into the dank abyss, she wonders if her plan is really such a good idea, but at the sound of the trapdoor in the adjacent room slamming shut Jahna decides to get moving.

“You go in first, Ro. Feet first.”

Rowan nods, climbing over the edge as quickly as his frail, malnourished body allows him to. Jahna counts the seconds to impact, but doesn’t even reach one before she hears a sickening crunch that has her scrambling in to check on her brother. However, when she lands, there is a second crunch from the bones of one of the many lifeless bodies, and Jahna realizes the original sound wasn’t from her brother, who kneels in the corner of the damp room dry heaving; the sight of decaying bodies of all ages piled atop each other, oozing all sorts of disgusting matter forces bile up Jahna’s throat as well, but she holds it back. She can hear vague shouts from above.

They have to keep moving.

The gate across from where the siblings stand helps explain the odd dampness; they stand in an abandoned portion of the Lower City sewers,a part she recognizes from previous missions with the Suns. 

“I think if we head right for a little bit, we’ll run into an exit,” Jahna explains to Rowan.

“You think?” Rowan challenges.

“Trust me, little brother. I’m getting us out of here,” she says with a confidence she doesn’t truly feel.

The siblings slosh through the sewer’s lengthy right hall, Jahna’s hand that isn’t wrapped around Rowan running along the side of the narrowing pipe they stand within, rust collecting underneath her fingertips as they move along. Sometimes, Rowan slips and falls, and occasionally pulls his sister down with him. His bare feet gain new cuts from random sharp objects in the sewer, and he sports numerous new bruises from his falls. By the end of their short trek, Rowan is considerably weaker and Jahna exhausted from essentially carrying her brother to the sewer opening. Both of them stink of death and sewage, but are ultimately free.

That is, until two figures round the corner at the end of the pipe. A low rumble reverberates out of the larger figure, echoing through the sewers. It sends an intense shiver down Jahna’s spine.

“When Ty told me you had entered the trash chute,” the large, imposing figure begins, “I was quite disappointed in you, Mahr.”

“Damn you,” Jahna swears shakily, all false bravado washed away in an instant.

“Not you, girl,” he responds evenly. “Rowan.”

Rowan startles at his name being called. “Boss,” he says quietly, even more nervous than his sister. Still, he stands a bit straighter— a difficult task, for all his injuries.

“You’re much smarter than this, Rowan,” Boss says, opting to ignore Jahna for a moment. “After entering the sewers, there were only so many places you could go; of course I found you. It wasn’t difficult whatsoever. You’re better than that, Rowan. You’re like a machine: incredibly efficient, calculating, not unlike myself.”

“I am nothing like you,” Rowan growls, his grip on Jahna tightening. “I don’t murder innocents for fun. I  _ understand _ the value of life.” 

“Is that so?” Boss ponders aloud. “But that guard you tricked, Ty… You had to have known I was going to take care of him after I found out what you had done,” he sneers. “And that warehouse? How could you just let those people burn, Rowan? Oh, but I suppose they weren’t  _ innocent _ , now were they?” he continues to taunt. Rowan pales, the jab clearly hitting too close to home. Jahna cannot stand for it.

“He tried to save them, all of them! I was the one that dragged him out!” Jahna shouts, making Boss turn his head towards her. He stands silent for a moment, presumably studying her; Jahna can hardly see his figure with the light coming in from behind him. The darkness does nothing to assuage Jahna’s fear; Boss’ black orbs look soulless in the shadows. She tries to make out the other stranger, but can’t get a read on who it is. Boss interrupts her investigation.

“Jahna Mahr. One of my best operatives before you started  _ thinking _ ,” he mocks. She frowns, but doesn’t say anything. “Too bad you always drag others into your mess. You dragged your brother into that warehouse, you dragged him through the trash chute, dragged him into the sewers—”

“If she hadn’t come, I’d likely be dead by now!” Rowan shouts in protest.

“She may as well pulled the damn trigger on you!” Boss hisses back, looking irate for the first time during their encounter. 

Her heart stutters. She knows nothing he says is true, but that doesn’t prevent the sting of his words.

“You’re just like every other Black Sun thug: headstrong and arrogant. You’re a tool meant to be led,” Boss speaks lowly and controlled. Jahna seizes up, unable to move. Her body runs cold. 

“No,” he says. “You are  _ nothing. _ ”

Her pulse hammers in her ears, deafening, like at the club. She thinks she sees some lights that remind her of it as well. She can even hear the crowd shouting with the beat. Is she hallucinating?

No. The shouts she picks up on come from Rowan, his tight grip anchoring her even as the room begins to spin.

“Jahna is greater than you’ll ever be!”

“Got me all figured out, hm?” Boss muses in response to Rowan. In a move too quick for Jahna to pick up on in her disoriented state, Boss unholsters his blaster and points it straight at Rowan’s head.

“That’s why you have to die first,” he says almost apologetically. Jahna feels sick. They’re going to die.

“And it’s all your fault,” Boss adds, as if he read her mind. It brings a second wave of nausea over her. A sliver of light reveals the crooked smirk plastered on the wicked man’s face.

“But I’m not going to kill you,” Boss chuckles, lowering his blaster a bit. The figure standing not far behind him finally steps up. Jahna can’t see well, but she sees enough.

“They will,” Boss says, handing the blaster over.

Shay.

They lift up the blaster, pointing it at Rowan once again. It hovers momentarily as Shay pauses, indecisive, then they lower it. Jahna lets out a breath she didn’t know she was holding, but sucks it back in as Shay turns to them instead.

“My necklace,” they demand.

Jahna hesitates, but pulls out the gold piece of jewelry regardless. Unable to do more, she holds it loosely in her palm, outstretched uselessly.

“Now,” Shay repeats frantically, clearly eager to get her necklace back. Jahna fully hands it over this time.

Shay snatches it out of her clutch and probes, “Were you ever going to return it voluntarily, Jahna?”

“Yes,” Jahna protests instantly, a bit offended. She doesn’t need the money… She would have returned it.

Right?

“Then why did you hesitate?” Shay interrogates further, her voice laced with a disgust written across her face as well.

Jahna doesn’t respond, not even when Shay mutters an angry “scum” as she turns to face Rowan again. Boss chuckles deeply, clearly enjoying himself greatly. Rowan speaks softly to Shay.

“You don’t have to do this, Shay. I know you’re a good person.”

“How?” they question, shaking their head, but not removing their sharp gaze from Rowan. “You don’t know me at all. Just like I don’t know you,” they add quietly.

“Because you’re like how I was before. Stuck in a terrible situation with a terrible gang, and seemingly no way out. No choice but to listen and obey,” Rowan says carefully, his hands raised in surrender. Jahna wonders if she can steal the gun from Shay’s hands. First, she has to get her body to work.

Boss stops chuckling and watches the spectacle intently.

“There is no choice,” Shay protests, but her voice waivers just as her blaster does.

“Shay,” Boss says threateningly. Rowan ignores Boss and continues.

“There is always a choice,” he says almost regretfully.

Suddenly, Boss pulls out a second, much smaller blaster from within his coat. He points it at the back of Shay’s head this time.

“Shoot. Him.”

Shay’s eyes narrow determinedly, which Jahna finds incredibly nerve-wracking considering they are pointing a blaster at her brother’s head. In a blur of motion, Shay pivots, surprising Jahna and Boss very briefly.

Then, all hell breaks loose.

Two blaster shots fire off simultaneously from both Boss and Shay. There’s a shout from Rowan as the shots are fired, and then he’s tumbling down, just like earlier in the sewers, except this time, he’s bringing Shay down with him; they fall to the ground with a hard thud, not far from Jahna’s feet, face up. Surprised, Boss takes aim at Shay again, ignoring Rowan, who lays helplessly on the floor. Too little, too late; Shay’s first shot may have been off because of Rowan’s interruption, but their second shot hits the target.

Boss clutches his shoulder— the one on his shooting arm —and drops his blaster. A second blaster shot hits him square in the face, sending him flat on his back. 

Dead.

Jahna stumbles over Shay in her haste to reach Rowan’s body. As she kneels next to him, she can tell instantly. The blaster shot might not have killed him, but the way his head hit the hard, concrete flooring within the pipeline, the jagged edge…

She can’t stand to look, so she turns away sharply. It makes her feel dizzy. She can’t. She couldn’t think, and now Rowan’s dead for it. Everything Boss said was  _ true _ . She was arrogant. She dragged him everywhere.

She dragged him to his grave.

She can’t breathe.

A heavy weight rests on one of her shoulders. She realizes it’s something tangible— a hand —and turns, punching out  _ hard _ . Shay dodges her sloppy jab easily, Jahna’s hand curling around their shoulder as all the fight leaves her body just as quickly as it arose.

She uses Shay’s other shoulder to sob into.

“I killed him. I killed him. I’m so sorry Rowan. I’m so sorry I killed you.”

She gasps for air as her words begin to turn unintelligible. She barely registers the hand caressing her back as she weeps.

Eventually, her cries turn to quieter moans of agony, and then little hiccups as she crumples onto the damp floor. Shay’s arms stay wrapped around her, guiding her down as gracefully as possible.

Then, Shay takes her chin between their fingertips and lightly pushes her head back so that their eyes meet— red and puffy to glistening and sorrowful.

“Why?” Jahna mouths, but no sound comes out. When she tries again, only a sob is released, and she gives up. Shay picks up on the implied word, though not its meaning; why did he have to die? Why is Shay helping? Neither of them know which “why” Jahna means, but Shay answers all the same.

“It’s okay to care,” they whisper. Jahna doesn’t feel so okay.

They let go of Jahna momentarily to reach into their pocket and pull out their necklace. Naturally, Jahna’s eyes are drawn to the bright object.

“Take this,” they say, holding it out to Jahna.

“But it’s yours?” Jahna says, confusion evident in her voice.

Shay shrugs, clearly trying to act like the necklace is no big deal to them, but their pained expression betrays them; parting with this piece of jewelry is no easy task for them. Jahna wonders how Shay got it in the first place.

“Maybe selling it will be enough for you to get a ticket off this damn moon,” they respond, obviously deflecting the real question:  _ But it’s important to you? _

“And what about you? The Black Sun isn’t going to let you get away with this, Shay. You killed one of their leaders,” Jahna protests, though she’s not sure why she cares. It’s not really her problem, but for some reason, the thought of Shay being caught and killed bothers Jahna. Maybe she’s just tired of all this death. That’s partly why she left the Suns in the first place.

Shay shrugs again, still trying to seem disaffected, and says, “Your brother said there’s always a choice.” Shay stands, dropping the necklace, somehow knowing that Jahna will catch it. “I’m making on.”

They have that same determination as him, Jahna decides. It brings tears to her eyes again, as she rises with Shay, to see a piece of her brother living on through someone else.

They’re taking a giant risk for her, so she decides to extend her current vulnerability, walk off the edge, and take one, too.

“Come with me,” she pleads lightly. Shay looks surprised for a moment, then sad.

They shake their head and say, “No. I led them to you before; I won’t do it again and get you killed, too.”

Jahna opens her mouth, ready to argue, and then shuts it.

“You need to go, Jahna,” Shay says. Jahna looks down at Rowan, unsure.

“You need to go,” Shay repeats with more insistence. “I’ll take care of him, I promise,” they add softly. Jahna nods; not much she can do anyways. They both pause, momentarily enveloped by a heavy silence before Jahna decides to break it.

“Goodbye, Shay.”

A ghost of a sad smile plays on their lips as they respond, “I’m sure we’ll meet again, Jahna.”

Jahna doubts it.

She picks up the blaster lying by Boss’ hand and the datapad in Rowan’s back pocket, shivering as she does so. She looks at her brother one last time, but decides that she cannot bear it, so she looks at Shay instead. There is something dancing in their eyes that she can’t put a word to, but it makes her uncomfortable, so she turns away and walks out of the sewers, back onto the streets of the slums of Nar Shaddaa.

As she strides away from the Black Sun, away from her brother, away from Shay, away from  _ home _ , and to the shipyard, the necklace she received burns a hole in her pocket, making it impossible to ignore. She fastens it around her neck instead. 

She might sell it if she needs to, but she hopes she doesn’t have to.


End file.
